White burn

You wanted to punch him in the face but you let him in, instead. He sits on your sofa and he picks at his cigarette burns, weaving ghastly fingers over cuts and scars and track marks. You want to tell him to stop but you wear your scars on your sleeve, too (like your heart).

(or something like that)

"My hair started falling out, like you said it would." His voice is shaky and you sit down and stare at the wall to his left. Pretty little blonde pretty little bald. You wish to tear his hair out and hang him by it.

You think you'd end up hanging yourself, instead.

"And I... I keep blacking out. I fell at work yesterday." More like a white out with skin so pale and eyes so wide. You don't tell him that. Instead you light a cigarette and hope it drops on the carpet and burns you all alive.

There's silence, then he's next to you, white on white. He takes the cigarette from your hand and instead of taking a drag, he presses it down on his arm, throwing his head back on the sofa and sighing. You want.

He offers you the cigarette, and you think you see dreams hanging from it's burning tip.